


Forever

by ArtjuiceRP, Hawkeye733



Series: Scenes You'd Like to See [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4129630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtjuiceRP/pseuds/ArtjuiceRP, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkeye733/pseuds/Hawkeye733
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on a tumblr prompt: Killian drunk proposing to Emma and her posting on social media, but neither of them remembers the next day and everyone is congratulating them and Snow's already planning the wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever

When Emma wakes, it’s far too bright. Her head is pounding, her memory of the night before completely missing, and the last thing she wants to do is get out of bed. The only thing about the morning that _doesn’t_ suck is the fact that she’s in Killian’s warm embrace and he’s snoring lightly in her ear.

And from the way she can feel a spring digging into her side, she doesn’t need to open her eyes to see that, for whatever mysterious reason, they’re at Granny’s and not pressed together in his narrow bed on the Jolly Roger, the way they usually are when they wake together.

But at least being at Granny’s means she can wander downstairs and get a hot cocoa without a ten minute walk first.

She wriggles out of Killian’s embrace, kissing him a good morning even though he isn’t awake yet and he mumbles sleepily and rolls into the space she’s just left. Every single movement makes her head ache, and as much of an advantage as it is to be able to walk downstairs to hot cocoa and a greasy breakfast, it’s not much fun to be picking up yesterday’s clothes from the floor instead of grabbing a fresh outfit from her drawer on the ship.

When she’s downstairs, hot cocoa in her hand, she tries to piece together what happened the night before. She _knows_ that she and Killian had decided to celebrate one year together without any unwanted separations with a private candlelit meal, and she _vaguely_ remembers finishing a bottle of wine and his flask of rum and deciding that a trip to The Rabbit Hole was in order but after that, there’s nothing.

Well, she’s rather certain about a few things she and Killian decided to do, but that’s because of the familiar pleasant aches she feels throughout her body and nothing to do with a memory.

She digs her phone out of her bag, wondering if there are any answers on there but all she finds are more questions. She has dozens of messages, from almost everyone she knows, from Ruby, Dr Whale, Leroy, Will Scarlet and even Regina, and although most of them seem a bit confused and unsure about why she messaged them of all people, they’re all saying something along the lines of ‘congratulations’.

Regina’s message is the strangest, saying that she’s not surprised but she supposes a congratulations is in order and she’ll leave it to Emma to tell Henry the news but she imagines that Emma and Hook will be wanting to sleep in.

If Ruby isn’t off work, she’ll ask for an explanation, but the waitress is nowhere in sight.

Killian stumbles into the seat beside her, and she tilts her head towards him in a silent request for another, slightly more awake, kiss good morning. He acquiesces and then, the moment he settles beside her, he slumps against her, his cheek resting against her head, and he clearly feels as awful as she does.

“Do you have an explanation for the voice mail your father left me?” He asks, his voice scratchy and his lips brushing against her forehead with every word. “Because any possible explanation has completely escaped me.”

“Well, what did he say?” Emma asks, certain that, whatever it is, probably has something to do with the multitude of text messages she’s received through the night. “Anything that might explain his message?”

“I couldn’t make out a word, love.” He tells her, reaching over her shoulder to pinch a piece of bacon from her plate. “I’m pretty certain he was crying.”

He plays her the message at her request and he’s entirely right. It’s impossible to hear anything her father is saying through his sobs, but he doesn’t sound _sad_. And that makes even less sense. She shows Killian the messages she’s got instead and they decide that _something_ has happened the night before, something that has led to dozens of messages and a crying David, but they’re at a loss to what it could be.

Her mother arrives then, bustling through the door with Neal balanced on her hip and when she sees Emma and Killian cuddled together in the back booth, she beams over at them and pushes past the morning crowd to reach the two of them, sliding onto the bench opposite them and looking at them expectantly.

Neal is babbling nonsense in the corner of the booth, but Mary-Margaret seems a bit preoccupied by just _grinning_ at the two of them and that is more disconcerting than anything else that has confused Emma that morning.

“I think you should have a white and red colour scheme and invite the entire kingdom.” Mary-Margaret says suddenly, clapping her hands together enthusiastically and Emma was wrong. She could apparently be _even more_ disconcerted. “The entire of Storybrooke even.”

“Invite them to what?” Emma asks warily, batting Killian’s hand away as he reaches for the last strip of her bacon, although he snatches it anyway when he distracts her with another kiss to the temple. “And why would we invite the whole town to anything? That’s just asking for disaster.”

“Well, to your _wedding_ of course!” Mary-Margaret squeals and Emma just blinks at her, because that was the last answer Emma was expecting. She glances over at Killian, but he looks just as dumbstruck as Emma feels. “Because you’re getting _married_!”

And then Mary-Margaret holds her phone out to Emma and dread sweeps through Emma when she sees the photo message that she’s suddenly certain has been sent to every single person in her contacts. She gapes at it. It’s herself and Killian kissing sloppily, _drunkenly_. Even if Killian wasn’t obviously holding the phone, she can tell it’s his handiwork because of the finger blocking out the bottom third of the picture, but even that’s not enough to block the image of Emma’s hand held out towards the camera, some sort of silver band on her finger.

Emma already knows what she's going to read before she glances at the accompanying text message.

**Wur gtting maried!**

Emma looks from the phone to Mary-Margaret in horror and then just blinks at her mother. “I’m sorry, but did you honestly think that message came from anyone sober?”

Mary-Margaret visibly deflates and Emma has a horrible moment of realisation that this is the same message she most likely sent to her father, and to Dr Whale, and then she has an even worse thought. The picture is probably on Henry’s phone, just waiting for him to wake up and see it. Emma groans and falls towards Killian, burying her head in his shoulder and he’s actually shaking with laughter.

He clearly hasn’t realised the disaster this actually is. _Leroy_ got the message. The entire town will know within the next half hour, if they don’t already.

“So, you’re not getting married?” Mary-Margaret asks in a whisper, as though she doesn’t want to know the answer.

Emma peers up from Killian’s shoulder to look sheepishly at her mother and then glances down at her hands. There’s no ring, so whatever drunken impulse had led to that message had clearly not lasted the evening, and Emma waves her bare fingers at her mother. “No. Not now. Not ever.”

“Not _ever_.” Mary-Margaret repeats, and Emma is suddenly scared that not only is she going to have deal with whatever break down her father had when he got the drunken announcement and decided to call Killian and _cry_ , but she’s going to have to try and prevent the one her mother is on the verge of. “What do you _mean_? We were going to have a _feast_ and you’d be married in a ballroom with an _orchestra_ and _dancing_ and you’d wear a white dress with feathers and pearls and look so, _so_ beautiful and you’re saying you’re not getting married _ever_?”

“That sounds horrendous.” Emma grumbles. “Besides, I already know Killian and I are forever so I don’t need marriage and we definitely don’t need any celebration that’s as horrible as that one sounds.”

“But what about Killian?” Mary-Margaret asks, as though he isn’t sitting right beside Emma and gaping at her as if she’s just made his world a million times brighter.

And when he looks at her like that, Emma _has_ to smile at him. He kisses her then, as soon as the smile curves her lips, and she doesn’t even _care_ that her mother is sitting just opposite them. Then again, when Killian kisses her, there’s not much else that feels more important.

Leroy screaming out the news that the pirate and princess are getting hitched _is_ enough to make her pull away, although not very far, their foreheads still pressed together.

“It’s going to be hell sorting out all the rumours.” she whispers, and he chuckles quietly.

“It’s hardly the worst we’ve faced, Swan.” He answers, capturing her lips in another quick kiss that actually sends a cheer through the diner and it’s really going to be the worst thing getting this cleared up but she doesn’t care. “And we’ve got forever to fix it.”

 


End file.
